


dreaming of you more

by whitemiists



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitemiists/pseuds/whitemiists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma doesn't think he and Kuroo make any sort of sense. Maybe they were a mistake, he thinks. Never meant to be friends. Never meant to <i>be.</i> Maybe they need to take a step back.</p><p>Kuroo's never been more ready for a step forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dreaming of you more

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by the song _never stop_ by _safetysuit._ this is _the_ kuroken song for a friend of mine, and when i listened to it, it was just _so_ beautifully kuroken that i had to write something! it's my first in-depth fic of the two of them...

_i will never stop trying // i will never stop watching as you leave_

_i will never stop losing my breath // every time i see you looking back at me_

_and i will never stop holding your hand // i will never stop opening your door_

_i will never stop choosing you babe // i will never get used to you_

_._

 

If Kuroo knew he had these thoughts, he’d probably be upset. He’d probably flash him a rare frown, the ends of his mouth turning brittle, his eyes sharpening into that disapproving gleam he only reserved for those times they caught Lev sneaking away from receiving practice for the fifth time in a row. He’d probably tell Kenma not to be silly, or not to dwell on possibilities that had zero chance of coming true, or not to take their friendship so lightly.

But still Kenma couldn’t help having these thoughts, that if Kuroo decided one day he’d had enough of extending a hand towards someone like him, if he got up and left and never barged into his room again, Kenma wouldn’t really blame him.

They were a mismatched pair to begin with. Kenma had never stopping thinking so, even after years and years of friendship. Even now, in their last years of high school, he sometimes fell asleep to the memories of Kuroo’s middle school friends looking him up and down, curious and a little confused, like they couldn’t understand why someone like Kuroo would befriend someone like Kenma.

Kuroo hadn’t talked to them since that day.

“Was it… because of me?” Kenma had asked, eyes never straying from his game as Kuroo lounged behind him on his bed, kicking his feet against the mattress.

“Nah,” he dismissed him lazily, burying his face in Kenma’s pillow. Kenma thought he heard him inhale deeply, but didn’t comment on it. “We just… didn’t have much in common, you know?”

Kuroo and Kenma didn’t have much in common, either. That had been his immediate thought, but he hadn’t had the courage to say it back then. He’d been afraid that Kuroo would have mused,  _huh, you’re right,_ and walked right out of his bedroom, never to return. Maybe he would have gone back to those middle school friends and the group of boys would have passed Kenma on the street sometimes, laughing and joking with one another.

But the older he became, the more Kenma figured that had been unfair of him – unfair and  _selfish._ Maybe if he’d said it, maybe if Kuroo had walked out, he would be happier now laughing and joking with other boys rather than sitting in silence as Kenma played his games. Kenma wasn’t one to laugh loudly, or one to joke around.

So he brought it up finally, years late, in the stuffiness of the boys’ locker room. Kuroo paused with his water bottle halfway to his lips, quirking an eyebrow in his surprise, and Kenma fidgeted under the scrutiny.

“In the locker room, Kenma?” he drawled, setting down his bottle and wiping at his lips. “What brought this on?”

Kenma huffed, more from how awkward he felt, and his bangs flew out of his face. “I just…” Avoiding his gaze, clutching the end of his T-shirt for support, he tried again. “I just thought… if  _us_ being friends isn’t… enough for you anymore… I wouldn’t mind.”

The moment was ruined slightly by Inuoka and Lev laughing themselves silly over some manga in a corner of the room, but still Kuroo didn’t tear his gaze away. It pierced into the top of Kenma’s discolored head, holding his stare for a moment, sharp and calculating.

Kenma heard him hum in thought after a moment, and dared a peek. The usual smile had returned to his face, wide and lazy and just a little warmer than usual.

“And here I thought  _I’d_ be the one to bring this up first,” he hummed, wiping sweat off his face with his shirt. “This is definitely a surprise.”

Kenma felt like his breath had been sucked out of him, but he said nothing. If Kuroo was happy about this, then that was what mattered. This is what he’d been prepared for, after all, because the two of them being friends had never made sense.

“So from today on…”

“Yeah,” Kuroo agreed, bobbing his head. He turned back to his locker, pulling out his uniform to change into.

Kenma quietly shuffled back to the bench, pulled his PSP out of his backpack, and lost himself in his game.

.

Kuroo walked home with Kai that afternoon. The two had previous plans to stop by the library together, to study for an upcoming test in one of their classes. Kuroo caught Kenma’s eye on his way out, and he seemed to pause for a step, hand going up in farewell. His smile widened.

Kenma glanced away, clutching the straps of his backpack as he walked towards home, in the opposite direction from Kuroo. It was the first time – Kenma couldn’t remember a time when they  _hadn’t_ walked home together, especially since Kuroo would take him by the hand as a child – and it would be the first of many.

Life without Kuroo, however, carried on much the same. He mumbled vague answers to his mother’s inquiries about school, shucking his shoes by the entrance before escaping to his room. Dinner was a quiet affair; sometimes Kuroo would join them, if his parents would be out for the night, but tonight he didn’t come over and Kenma didn’t even know whether he was home alone or not. The routine was all the same: finish homework, play video games, shower, change into his PJs, maybe answer a stray text from Hinata, then switch on his PSP.

Towel over his damp hair, Kenma almost settled into bed to play himself to sleep. Except he picked up on the familiar voice, drifting from their kitchen, and paused.

“Sorry I’m so late.”

“Oh, not at all!” his mother laughed, and he imagined her batting his arm. “Kenma should be up in his room.”

“When is he not?” Kuroo joked, and the two chuckled together before the sounds of sock-clad feet running up the stairs readied Kenma for an invasion like any other day.

His eyebrows dipped, his confusion written plainly on his face, albeit in a dull look of contemplation. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, gnawing at the chapped skin as the footsteps drew closer. He didn’t understand.

The door slammed open with the subtlety of a speeding train, as was the way Kuroo always preferred to make his entrance. Their eyes met, Kuroo grinning by the door and Kenma frozen in place before his bed.

“Yo.” He was quieter as he shut the door behind him, before slouching over to join the blonde, hands behind his head. The grin reached his eyes, something that was surprisingly rare for someone who smiled as much as Kuroo did. Kenma recognized it; it was an unguarded look that meant Kuroo was not here to tease.

He flopped down on Kenma’s bed without asking, legs stretched out before him and back against the wall. It was a very familiar scene, so that wasn’t the strange part. The strange part, the part that had Kenma frowning, was that he caught Kenma’s wrist in a gentle hold and tugged him along.

He’d never been particularly strong, and certainly not at Kuroo’s level, so he allowed himself to be pulled, allowed Kuroo to press his back into his chest and settle him between his legs and hold his waist like he couldn’t let Kenma escape.

“What… are you doing here?” Kenma asked quietly, staring down at his fingers. He really didn’t understand, and that was nothing new since he had never really understood Kuroo, not really, but this time he didn’t like it.

“Wouldn’t you know it,” Kuroo chuckled, resting his chin on Kenma’s shoulder. “Turns out I have trouble sleeping without watching you play. Indulge me, would you?”

Maybe this was normal, Kenma pondered, switching on his game. It wasn’t like he would know, since Kuroo was the only person he was so close to, the only boy to have ever come over to his house. Maybe it was perfectly normal for childhood friends to take time to drift apart. Maybe tomorrow Kuroo would sing himself a lullaby rather than come over, and then that would be the end. His toes curled over the sheets at the thought, unease and discomfort crawling up his spine.

He wondered whether the goosebumps running up his arm were from a chill after his shower, or whether they were from Kuroo’s warmth seeping into his back, Kuroo’s nose pressing into his cheek, Kuroo’s hands absentmindedly stroking the fabric of his T-shirt. The light from his console screen flashed over his face and he furiously pressed buttons like it was an instinct embedded in him, but he didn’t really see any of it.

Then Kuroo buried his nose into Kenma’s hair, deep into the still-damp locks so that the towel slipped from his head, and inhaled. “You smell good,” he purred, fingers running up and down Kenma’s sides, feeling out his shirt more urgently.

He paused his game, his thumbs stilling over the buttons, and gently set it down in his lap.

“Kuroo, are we still friends?” he asked straight out, because he  _still didn’t understand_ and he didn’t like this jaded feeling that something had passed over his head.

Kuroo sounded surprised. “Huh? Yeah, of course?”

“Then…” He licked his lips, his shoulders tensing. “Then what about this afternoon? When you said…”

“We’re still friends, Kenma,” Kuroo hummed, tucking his cheek against Kenma’s neck, so that his hair tickled the side of Kenma’s face. “Just because we’re  _more_ doesn’t mean the friendship goes away.”

Kenma’s breath stilled.  _More?_

Kuroo noticed, and his hold tightened. “But you said if being  _just_ friends wasn’t enough anymore, then–” His lips pressed into Kenma’s neck, almost kissing him there, so that he breathed out onto his skin. “ _God,_ Kenma, it’s  _never_ been enough.”

He moistened his lips with a single flick of his tongue, swallowed silently, tried to work through the fogginess in his head. A hand of his came to rest over Kuroo’s, almost unconsciously, and as he ran his thumb over the skin of Kuroo’s knuckles, his mind spun. Kuroo wanted…

“I waited patiently for you, you know,” Kuroo continued to murmur, against the skin of his neck. “I was prepared for you to  _never_ be at the same place.”

This time the kiss was on purpose, pressed against his neck in an affectionate gesture.

And there were  _so many_ things Kenma could have said in return; he could have asked how long Kuroo had felt this way, whether he’d ever intended to tell him, or even corrected him, told him that he hadn’t meant his words to be taken this way at all.

Instead, what tumbled past his lips was, “Why me?”

“Who else  _could_  it be?” Kuroo chuckled, drawing circles into his side.

Kenma shook his head, slowly, deliberately. “There are plenty of other people, Kuroo. People you would be better with. You and me… there’s nothing… here.”

The words didn’t come out right. Speaking had never been his strong point, even if his thoughts were always articulated beautifully. There was years of trust and support and friendship here, of course, but Kenma didn’t think they had that right kind of  _sense_ between them, the kind that made for a good kind of couple – he didn’t think  _he_ had that kind of sense, not in the way Kuroo deserved.

Perhaps Kuroo understood, even without him having to say it, because his hand stilled. When Kenma dared a peek at him, he saw that pinched, thoughtful look on his face that he’d expected to see from the start.

“Don’t be silly,” he said, like Kenma had known he would. But when their eyes met, the grin returned to his face and he asserted, "There's _everything_ here."

He frowned, fidgeted between Kuroo’s legs, shook his head. He meant to discredit it all, to pull away. He and Kuroo weren’t even meant to be  _friends,_ much less lovers, and he didn’t know why he couldn’t just  _tell_ Kuroo that, but he also knew he couldn’t trust such baseless words.

Then Kuroo took his fingers, opened them until they were flat, and pressed the back of their tips to his chest. “Let’s do the cliche thing, hm?” he chuckled, and his voice was husky as he murmured, “You get my heart racing.”

And Kenma felt it, through Kuroo’s shirt and underneath the tips of his fingers. It was strong but by no means steady, and he marveled at it.

“Like I said,” Kuroo drawled, grinning. “There's everything here.”

.

Kenma was keenly aware of the eyes following him through practice, keeping track of his every move, watching over him with a tad bit more warmth than he remembered (than he had ever  _noticed)._

The memory of last night crossed his mind, when Kuroo had fallen asleep with his back against the wall, Kenma tucked between his legs. With only the single light of the PSP brightening up the room, it had been difficult for him to keep his eyes open. He hadn’t been lying about Kenma’s game-play soothing him to sleep.

Kenma wasn’t sure why he hadn’t corrected the misunderstanding between them. Even if last night he had pushed Kuroo down beside him and fallen asleep side-by-side with his childhood friend, their morning together had provided him with ample opportunities. And yet he had kept silent, watchful, hesitant.

And now he was very much the same way, because Kuroo’s eyes were on him and he could  _feel_ the emotions flickering through them – all loving, as they’d always been, but so much more open now that Kuroo had no reason to hide behind his playful smile.

“Thanks for the tosses, Kenma!” Lev boomed beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts. “They were great! Let’s go get some water, yeah?”

He found himself dragged along by the wrist despite his struggles, and on his way out the door, he accidentally locked eyes with Kuroo. He was  _still_ watching, had angled himself so he could continue doing so, and didn’t seem to realize Yamamoto had sidled up to him.

 _“Captain!”_  their teammate complained. “Are you  _listening_ to me?”

“Hm?” Kuroo was forced to break eye-contact, but still his eyes flickered just once more towards the blonde hair he saw disappear around the door. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just a little distracted, I guess.”

His words drifted all the way out to the taps, and Kenma splashed water over his face.

Still, he thought Kuroo might be reaching for his hand on their walk home together, so he kept his hands firmly in his pockets.

.

The words in his textbook seemed to jumble together, unable to keep his focus.  _Nothing_ was easy to focus on when Kuroo sat just across the table, the two boys so close and so alone in the emptying library now that the afternoon had begun to drift into the evening hours.

Kuroo didn’t know he knew, that his oldest friend had been contently staring at his face for the better part of the hour, his chin resting on his folded arms over the table, his face hidden aside from that wild hair and those sharp eyes. But those eyes held all the emotion in Kuroo’s expression that Kenma needed to know. There was  _too much_ love there. It was why he’d been pretending not to know.

Finally there came a time when he couldn’t ignore it any longer, when that gaze made his face burn. Tucking his bangs behind his ears, he flitted his own gaze up and caught Kuroo’s unexpectedly.

And he heard it: Kuroo’s breath hitched, only for a single moment but still loudly enough to be heard by Kenma’s keen ears. He seemed to freeze under the contact, simply staring back just as intently as Kenma did, stunned by his surprise.

“…Stop staring,” Kenma finally mumbled, turning his attention back to his book. He noticed he’d accidentally gripped the pages so hard he’d left creases with his thumbs.

Kuroo’s answering chuckle was a little breathy. “Ah, sorry, sorry.” And he obliged, slowly shifting his eyes towards the window and the setting sun rather than his childhood friend. He always indulged the things Kenma asked for.

The afternoon was quiet. Kenma wondered whether Kuroo wasn’t bored just sitting here, waiting for Kenma to finish studying for his exam. He often hung around Kenma’s bedroom while the blonde played video games, but at those times he kept himself preoccupied with the things on Kenma’s shelves or a game of his own. But here, now, he seemed content with just Kenma’s presence itself. Once again, Kenma didn’t understand.

He understood even less when a boy suddenly popped his head into the library, having spotted the messy bedhead from outside.

“Hey, Kuroo!” he called out, leaning in by the doorway. “Some of us from class are going to karaoke. You wanna come?”

Kuroo tucked his cheek against his palm, seeming to mull over the invitation, before shrugging his shoulder. “Mmm, no, thanks. I think I’m gonna stay with Kenma.”

The boy flickered a quick, surprised glance towards Kenma, who had yet to look up from his book and, in fact, seemed to shrink under the attention. And it was there again: the curiosity, the confusion, like he couldn’t understand why someone like Kuroo would hang out with someone like Kenma.

“Suit yourself, I guess.”

He retreated behind the door, and Kuroo must have noticed that look too, because he frowned as he watched his back disappear.

“Are you going to stop hanging out with him, too?” Kenma asked quietly, turning a page of his textbook.

Kuroo whipped his head around in shock, an eyebrow quirking, before a hazy smile stretched across his lips. “What’s this?” he lightly laughed. “Is this about those middle school kids all those years ago?”

“It wasn’t  _that_ long ago,” Kenma huffed back, his forehead creasing.

“Mmm, well, regardless. I  _told_ you, Kenma,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I only stopped hanging out with them because we didn’t have much in common.”

“You know,  _we…”_ He hesitated, licked his lips, then finally said it. “We don’t have much in common either, Kuroo.”

The rebuttal was immediate. “Well, that’s not true at all, is it?” At Kenma’s frown, he smirked. “We have almost the exact same memories of the last nine years.”

“That… doesn’t count,” he insisted, his frown deepening.

“People who share memories share experiences, people who share experiences share a bond, and people who share a bond have  _everything_ in common,” he explained pointedly. “Or, more accurately, we have  _enough_ in common.”

“Enough for what?” Kenma wanted to know.

“Enough for us,” Kuroo explained simply, and that small, affectionate gleam was back in his eyes as he buried his face in his arms once again. He returned to staring at Kenma, and this time, even though his face burned, Kenma didn’t ask him to look away.

He also considered pulling his hands out of his pockets today, on the walk home, but the thought made his palms sweat and he decided against it.

.

Kuroo kissed him at the back of the gym, a week into their misunderstood relationship, after Kenma finally told him the truth.

 _I wanted to break off our friendship,_  he told him, hands wringing.

 _Do you still want to?_ was all Kuroo asked in return, surprisingly calm.

_No, I… think I want more than friendship now, too._

And so Kuroo pressed his back flat against the wall and hovered over him for a beat, long enough that Kenma could push him away if he wanted to. And Kenma wanted to, just a little bit, but he realized that it was a matter of nerves rather than a matter of not wanting it.

Lips pressed against lips for only a brief few seconds. Kenma had always expected kissing to be a lot scarier, like those passionate lip locks he saw in movies or video games. But Kuroo gently brushed against him,  _just_ hard enough that Kenma could feel a kiss, just soft enough that Kenma knew he  _mattered_ to Kuroo – against all the odds.

On the walk home, he bravely left his hands at his sides and Kuroo didn’t hesitate to take one into his hold.

“Sorry if my hand is sweaty,” he laughed, squeezing his fingers.

“It’s okay, it’s…” Kenma squeezed back, relieved that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. “It’s a good kind of sweaty.”

And just like that, he  _understood._


End file.
